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“Okay, then. Stay there if you need to. But just for a while, okay? Remember your grandbaby, Harper? She’s getting so big now. You’re missing out on the chance to see her grow.”
He pushed aside his own resentment that elbowed in every time he thought of his dad. Besides, they now shared something in common that no father should ever face.
“I finally understand how you were feeling when you found out that Ace possibly wasn’t yours. The hospital’s said the same thing about Harper and me.”
Even recognizing that this was a one-sided conversation didn’t stop him from pausing and waiting for his father’s response.
“Deep in my soul, I know she’s my child, but then you thought the same thing about Ace. Felt the same thing. Yet you were wrong.”
He couldn’t bring himself to put to words the question swirling in his mind that he could have been mistaken, as well.
“I’m a lousy son, but part of the reason I wanted you to wake up was so you could see that I’m a good dad. Maybe better than you.” He shook his head, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “I know. It’s terrible.”
His voice broke on the last. He lifted his chin and tilted his head back and blinked several times. He had to stay in control, at least for his daughter’s sake.
“I met Willow because of this mess. She was here the other night, but you were too rude to wake up and give her a proper hello.”
He paused again, hoping, and then finally he continued.
“You’d like her, I think. She’s a take-no-prisoners person. Kind of like you.”
He grinned at the comparison. Until he’d spoken the words, he’d never realized how true they were. She was strong-willed and single-minded in her determination to keep her business and the security she’d worked so hard to build for her family.
Just like Payne had.
Asher blinked again in the muted lights that illuminated his father’s bed. No matter what he could say about him, he never should have doubted that Payne had made so many of his decisions to protect not only the business, but also the family. Maybe that had been his way of showing the children he loved them. Had Asher been looking for more, to the exclusion of seeing what was already there?
“I asked her to marry me. Can you believe it?” He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe himself.
“Yeah, she turned me down flat. I’m zero-for-two in the proposal business. First, with Nora, though that was more of a suggestion than an actual proposal, and now Willow. She said she didn’t want to marry someone who didn’t love her.”
He propped his elbows on top of the bedrail, clasped his hands together and pressed his thumbs to his forehead just between his eyebrows.
“Can’t blame her, I guess.”
He also couldn’t admit that her rejection had stung, nor that his feelings about Willow weren’t as indifferent as he would have liked to believe. Was it because they were trapped together inside a puzzle where the pieces might produce a picture that neither of them wanted to accept?
“She’ll get over it.” But would he?
He continued to update his father on the rest of the recent developments involving the family, from the possible baby switch to the bomb threat to the damaged fencing. The list included the unusual events at Tender Years, though he admitted he still hadn’t worked out whether there was a connection between those and the attacks on their family. Sure, he gl
ossed over a few details, but a gentleman never kissed and told.
A strange peace filled him when he’d finished. Whether it was a message from his father that everything would be all right or just his own mind’s reprieve from the worry, he wasn’t sure, but he was relieved anyway.
A pile of cards on the bedside bureau caught his eye. They had been stacking up since so many friends and business associates wanted to offer their well-wishes, and only so many flowers could be crammed in one room.
Asher crossed to the pile of cards and rifled through them. Marlowe had been handling them until then, having Payne’s admin, Dee Walton, send thank-you notes for the cards and flowers. Obviously, they’d gotten behind.
He carried the stack over to the bed, opening and reading the sentiments, both printed and handwritten, inside each one.
“You definitely have a lot of friends, Dad,” he said after reading a flowery comment. “Or a lot of people who owe you a favor.”
He grinned at that. His dad would have gotten a chuckle out of it, too. His chest squeezed that he might never hear that full-throated laugh again, but he shook his head, pushing the thought away. It wouldn’t help anyone.
To distract himself, he opened the next get-well card, its message on the front as benign and well-meaning as all the others. But at the note written in block uppercase letters inside, his breath caught.
Oh, too bad you won’t get well because I’ll be back to finish you when your family least expects it.
